Ice Cream Stall: Maple Syrup and Peach Melba (RabastanUmbridge)
Angel's Arcade, Riku: silver, "You made me a promise.", darkness, change, mistrust
Insane House Challenge: He listened to the sound of the clock.
321 words
He listens to the sound of the clock. There's a comfort in the steady ticking that Rabastan has always loved. It's soothing, a constant reminder that he is still alive, despite the hell he'd faced in Azkaban.
"Rabastan?" Dolores' sweet voice fills the air. "Come back to bed, dear."
"My feet were cold," he murmurs, holding up the pair of socks he had fetched.
It isn't a complete lie. His feet are cold. But it isn't actually that urgent.
There are some nights where the change is too much. He doesn't know how to handle freedom, and it is so suffocating. It's easy to mistrust his own comfort, and he seems to be permanently on edge, always waiting for the darkness to find him again, waiting for the Dementors' cruel chill to burrow into his bones.
"Hem hem!" He doesn't even realize she's gotten out of bed until her fingers brush through his dark hair. "There are other ways to protect you from the cold, dear."
She drops her hand to his arm, curling her pudgy fingers around his wrist. "You made me a promise," she says. "I visited you in prison, and you said if you ever got out, you would keep my bed warm at night."
He blushes at the memory. Though he doesn't remember much about the dark days, only that Dolores' visits had been his only reprieve from the pain. Even now, her company has been his only real comfort. The war is still waging, and he is still fighting; the world is still ending. But Dolores, for all her faults, is there. She is warm and steady, and he loves her.
She leads him back to bed, and he climbs beneath the pink satin sheets. Dolores lays beside him, and her snores fill the air within seconds. Rabastan's eyes flicker toward the window, at the silvery moon.
He is free. He is loved. Nothing else matters.
